


Always a Pleasure [English]

by berryless



Series: [ Dragon Age ] [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Banter, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Retelling, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 02:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20268604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berryless/pseuds/berryless
Summary: Lady Trevelyan had tired of being a hero, even before she got a sword of the Inquisitor. Now she wants only one thing—to roll herself in a blanket and sleep until the day the world will save itself. But for some reason everyone around are trying to stop her, as if she's the only girl with shiny green hand in Thedas…But, wait..!





	Always a Pleasure [English]

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Always a Pleasure [Russian]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20035900) by [berryless](https://archiveofourown.org/users/berryless/pseuds/berryless). 

> I've decided to give it a go and translate my work by myself, even though my English is far from perfect. It's a work in progress, so there'll be changes here and there, please bear with me.
> 
> If you see a mistake, please kindly correct me. I will appreciate any help with making my translation better.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> P.S.: Considering, I'm still working on the original one, the updates will come slow, so if you're in, buckle up, we're here for the long ride.

A heart, hot and slippery, sprouted with crystals of red lyrium. It was disgusting in it's painful unnaturalness, but still exited in her a great deal of a furious delight with just one thought, about who it belonged to.

Coryphaeus, broken like a doll and thrown at her feet, still stubbornly tried to reach up to her. The creature's uncovered ribcage bared its fractured bones, looking like a big greedy jaw.

A beast inside a beast itself.

The cursed magister coughed blood and growled in a low voice, which made her skin break in goosebumps.

"Bring it back! Bring it back! Your heart and hand belong to me!"

The heart in her palms was still beating. Stronger and stronger, as if it was trying to _ break out of her chest. _

She understood it even without looking down; her heart was already poisoning her from the inside.

It bloomed within her with red lyrium and bewitching songs; it ran scorching through veins, an ill onem of the inevitable death; it broke through skin with druses of shining crystals, in which blight and blood flowed together…

Renee screamed, bolting up from the nightmare; and the Fade reluctantly let go, spitting her out to reality, bones chewed to dust.

"Hey, can you be quiet? I'm trying very hard to be as inconspicuous as possible."

At first she couldn't understand to whom the voice belonged. It had her freeze in fear, without a breath for several moments. Usually, a reaction like that made her angry with herself, but now it turned out to be convenient. After all, talking with a dwarf struck by a lightning proved itself difficult.

"What happened, Varric?"

The thought that she wasn't alone now calmed Renee down… but also brought a shame for her unsightly appearance.

She pulled blanket all the way up to her chin, and rubbed her face in an attempt to shake off a stupid, but frightening dream.

_ "Your heart and hand belong to me!" _

It sounded just like a proposal! The audacity! _ The horror! _

"Nothing for now, but I'm afraid, after they'll realise it was you screaming, something will definitely happen."

"Should I say, you are my secret admirer, so the guard doesn't think you're here to kill me?"

The joke came out forced. Last moments of the nightmare were still too vivid inside her head to make the smile seem natural.

"Only if you're tired of my humble self enough to wish upon me a horrid death by the hands of your worshipers. I bet they'll tear me apart once they'll hear this one," Varric bowed to her sarcastically, but soon became serious. "My friend is here. Remember, I promised to introduce you to someone?"

"I'm ready!"

Renee forgot about drowsiness instantly. After all, Varric was teasing her with a friendly visit for almost a month, since the day the Inquisition took over the Skyhold. But no matter how much she pestered him about the details, he kept that friend's identity a secret, like a mabari guarding bone.

Now she finally could find out were her guesses true or not! 

If only she had something other than a blanket on herself, Renee would've already jumped out of bed to get ready as soon as possible. But she couldn't move a muscle out of fear to expose herself. She had to wait until Varric would leave.

"We'll wait for you at the site near the ruined wall," he said quietly, and stopped for a second in front of the open door. "Did nightmares got you too, Dormouse?"

"I reaped Coryphaeus' heart, and he proposed to me. Does that count?"

"I hope, you didn't said yes to him, did you? The guests at the wedding would gouge their eyes out of happiness… Chin up. If you decide to drink yourself stupid afterwards, I'm your guy."

"Thanks, Varric."

Her voice trembled, as if she was about to cry.

A pretty inconvenient habit when you need to be calm and representative—or at least pretend to.

The Herold of Andraste cannot be a crybaby… even if she were one long before she became the Herold.

"Clean your whiskers, Dormouse. Great things await us!"

"Yeah…" Renee agreed into the silence, when she was left alone. "No other things are waiting for me now."

Her room in the tavern was small, but clean and neat. "Apartments worthy of the Inquisitor" were not ready at the moment, so she had to “_bear it with the humble ones,_” as Josephine called it.

For Renee, who lived for years in the open-for-everyone corner of a Circle's dormitory, a room like this was like Andraste's bosom. A pity she had so little time to enjoy this precious solitude…

The braid, disheveled from sleep, had to be fixed on the go as Renee holded a ribbon in her mouth. One of the many Skyhold's residents—without a shiny golden armor not unlike the famous lady Inquisitor at all. An inconspicuous appearance—typical southern paleness, chestnut hair and dark eyebags as a distinctive mark of working for the Inquisition—helped her out at times she didn't wanted to make a show of her presence.

After the dark tavern, the sunlight seemed dazzlingly bright. Renee nervously straightened a suddenly tight collar and took a breath. What good an empty anxiety would do now? What's the worst that could happen? 

Well. _Apparently—_a wrong tower.

In just a few minutes cold mountain air robber her of all warmth that was left from the morning. She could already tell, what a wonderful meeting it would be! You could only imagine how inspiring a snotty red-nosed Inquisitor must look, quivering like a leaf in the middle of autumn.

Varric should've chosen a different mark. There were too many ruined walls at the Skyhold. 

Her next attempt to find the place was more successful. Varric's ginger hair and his friend's sparkling armor were seen from miles away. She couldn't imagine, why would he bother trying make this a secret? 

"Good afternoon, messere Hawke," Renee bowed, steeling herself to maintain a calm but welcoming demeanour. "If I am not mistaken?"

Under the piercing gaze of bright blue eyes, she felt insecure, as if she balanced on the thin spring ice. Just a few years ago, an encounter like this seemed impossible. Some nameless magi from the Circle and _ the _ Champion of Kirkwall? Not in this life.

She really had to struggle in order to not show any excessive emotions. Puppy eyes matched poorly with the title of Andraste's Chosen; even if Renee was dying inside from both horror and admiration.

"And here I thought, my beloved Ferelden had long forgotten about me, and I could manage to keep an incognito," the woman sighed sarcastically, shrugging her shoulders. She then held out her hand to Renee with a nod. "Inquisitor..?"

"Renata Trevelyan."

"Such a sweetheart, isn't she?" Varric smiled with a pride more suited for a father, and patted Renee on the back. "Our Dormouse had already thrown a mountain on Coryphaeus but, I think, your help with next one wouldn't hurt. After all, we had already killed him. _ Once _."

"Not good enough, if he's still flapping around," Hawke grunted, leaning her back to the wall.

When Renee looked at her from the stairs, the Champion seemed taller; but now it became clear that it was mostly Varric's fault. Even Renee felt herself a giant next to him. The rumours, though, had claimed the Champion was no inferior to Arishok, whom she had gloriously defeated. 

Of course, Renee had never met Arishok in person, but she did had, so to say, a model of Qunari right under her nose. And it was unlikely for him to be the tallest of them all. But, even if he was, the others couldn't be _ that _much smaller, so that someone considered them on a par with a human. 

Though, if Renee recalled the rumours she'd heard about herself… 

"I'm at your service, Inquisitor," saluted Hawke jokingly, not suspecting a thing about Renee's contemplations, that she was just very lucky to find the only dwarfish Qunari in Kirkwall (and maybe, in Thedas). "Can't imagine anything more existing than killing Coryphaeus. _ Again._"

"Varric said, you may know something about the Wardens..?" Renee asked, carefully choosing her every word. 

Previously, negotiations were handled exclusively by Josephine or, outside of the Haven, Cassandra. But instead of learning from them, Renee gladly tossed the unpleasant duty aside, passing it to far more experienced companions; and never thought about it again. There were enough problems for her already. 

That was, before a sword of the Inquisitor fell onto her head—_almost literally,_ as it turned out to be quite heavy. And it was suddenly oblivious that she was completely unprepared for the responsibility which came in set with the title. 

Although, nobody really cared about it. Everyone managed their own business, without much interest about how others cope with theirs. 

Well, that was to be expected. 

Hawke, however, looked as if all those showy titles, pretentious phrases and proper etiquette didn't really meant much to her. 

"_Ha!_ I can say _ way more _ that _ 'something_,'" she snorted. "That brother of mine never forgets to remind me by whose fault he ended up in their ranks. But now… Well, I had to persuade Carver to temporarily postpone his quest of saving the world from the Darkspawn, so I don't have any juicy details. But given how conveniently Grey Wardens' disappearance crossing Coryphaeus' rise from the dead… I think, you get the idea. I have a friend, who's Warden, though, so…"

How strange it was to see herself beside a woman who created a history. Her own—as well as whole world's, judging by the consequences!

Renee couldn't shake away the unpleasant thought that people now saw her the same way. Lady Inquisitor, Herold of Andraste—a symbol of war against the prophet of the False Gods, who dared to dirty the Golden City with his presence, and thus turned gold to ash…

Only a symbol—with nothing behind it.

"I must say, I'm pleasantly surprised," Hawke admitted, measuring Renee from head to toe. "I've heard quite a lot about the Herold, a charming maiden with blazing staff of the divine retribution, who casts down the rebels with one eye, and turns the heretics to the Maker with another." 

"Varric..?"

Renee was completely perplexed by such news. She, of course, knew that rumours loved to exaggerate the truth, but she would never thought they could do it to this extent! 

Boy, if only there were a hole to crawl into… 

"What do you think of me, Dormouse?" He sounded sincerely baffled with a mere idea of it. "You think, if I were to tell your story, I would miss the magnificent, apt and lovely dwarf, endowed with all virtues possible?" 

"You sure it's not '_depraved_ of all virtues possible?'" Hawke asked innocently.

"_Ma-ri-an_," Varric growled at her with a frown.

"It cannot be! After all these years, you finally remembered my name!" Hawke flinged hands in surprise, fake tears of affection in her eyes. "Now I can die in peace! …But only after Coryphaus," she added then with a grim grin.

"I'll pass your information to Leliana." Renee stepped back with the quick bow. Listening to their friendly bickering she felt she was one too many here. "Sister Nightingale will plan our route to Crestwood based on the current situation." 

"You can also pass her my sincerest regards!“

“Will do, messere Hawke."

"Oh, yes. One more before you go. I would like to introduce my friend," said the Champion, nodding to someone behind Renee's back. She turned abruptly to pick out a man, hiding in the long shadow of the fortress' wall. But she never felt his presence before Hawke had mentioned him! "Varric said, you're in desperate need of every good fighter, so I caught one on the way here." 

"More like, earnestly explained how foolish it is to limit oneself to slave traders, when the hunting season for the rebellious mages is now open," the man grunted, stepping into the light, so Renee could grasp his image more clearly.

That man was no human at all.

"Lady Inquisitor,” Fenris folded his arms, barely nodding as a greeting. 

"Either you've really upped your hide-and-seek game during our days apart, or one can sneak with an army of Qunari riding demons under the nose of our beloved lady Inquisitor, and she wouldn't even look twice past it."

Varric winked mischievously, nudging the Herold with his elbow. She blushed under the teasing gaze and opened her mouth with annoyed look on the face, but then decided better of it and kept silent, secretly threatening the dwarf with her fist.

"Alright, alright, Dormouse, don't be mad at me. Our moody friend here knows how thing or to about how to avoid attention. When he's not busy glowing like a sun in the sky. He's a crafty one. Bloodthirsty too. I bet, he ran out of space for slave traders' corpses and came to ask a few spare cellars from us."

"From _ us_?" Hawke gasped, exaggerated shock plasted on her face. "Varric, you wound me! I thought you had no interest in women beside your crossbow. But now look at you! Suddenly you've gotten yourself a whole new Inquisitor! Bianca and I feel betrayed. Were we not enough for you?" 

"Hush, hush, Hawke. It’s bad to worry in your condition." 

"And why exactly is that?"

"You're sober. And when you're sober, you kill Qunari, blood mages and mad templars. Where will I get them for you that early at the morning?" 

"On training grounds, maybe?" The Herold suggested. "I think I saw Iron Bull there. But if you would prefer any other Qunari, my gratitude would know no bounds. It's not an easy job hunting dragons alone."

There was a hint of laughter in her sonorous voice—and also a tremble. Her manner of speech resembled him of Hawke, who had taken Marches' accent over the years in Kirkwall; but it was short of brazenness and confidence, the lack of which was evident in her awkward movements and strained smiles. After all the stories he heard, Fenris expected someone else, and now he tried to understand if he was disappointed by it.

“Ugh, dragons,” Hawke grunted, pouting. “You don't have another Bone Pit here, do you? It was supposed to be a mine, not dragon's nursery!"

"Yeah! _ Dragons!_" Varric perked up, shoving Hawke a bottle that he brought to celebrate their happy reunion. "_You-would-not-believe _what a sweetie we recently slaughtered!" 

"Tell me all about it!" Hawke demanded, pulling Varric closer. They went to the stairs, talking on the go, until she suddenly stopped, clapped herself on the forehead and waved casually to the Herold. "Oh, yeah. Inquisitor, this is Fenris. Fenris, this is Inquisitor. You'll figure out the rest by yourselves, right? Please, don't bite her head off right away just because she's a mage, 'kay? And be a good boy while I'm gone!" 

Fenris rolled his eyes wearily.

"Watch your step, or you will stumble upon the dwarf!" He shouted at her back.

"Hey! That's hurtful!" Varric yelled disgruntledly, barely visible behind the battlements.

But Fenris only quietly snorted and turned away, taking the same place near the site's edge as Hawke did few minutes ago.

The man was in no hurry to interrupt this long pause, which made Renee felt awkward. But, hey! Was talking to strangers more difficult to her than killing demons?!

Yes.

Yes, perhaps it was.

"So you are going to join the Inquisition, serah Fenris?" She asked, casting a glance at the castle's courtyard. The sun had not yet risen high enough to light it up, and Skyhold seemed a little empty. Although somewhere in the thick shade of high walls guards carried out their patrols and healers had already returned to their duty. The Haven collapsed almost a month and a half ago, and those who survived this time were no longer at risk. But with increased flow of refugees new problems emerged, so there was no time for idleness.

Though, were there really a time for that since the Conclave?

If she'd found the courage to look at the elf just a little bit earlier, she would have noticed a mocking grimace on his face upon the way she addressed him.

"I'm thinking about it. Hawke's believes it's her duty to help. It was her blood that freed Coryphaeus from his prison—but she wasn't there alone." The man's words fell like stones, each one is a carefully considered blow. "We killed him together. And if necessary, I'll do it again. As many times as we'll need to destroy him."

"The Inquisition is always grateful for any help offered," Renee nodded hastily.

Fenris kept quiet.

The conversation left hanging, making her uncomfortable with its painful silence; and by the time Fenris spoke again, she was already searching for an excuse to leave—this dialogue and the elf both.

"I've heard a lot about you on the way here. About the Inquisition … and the Inquisitor. I'm interested to know how much of these stories were true."

"Oh, probably not a lot, I'm afraid," she laughed sheepishly. Talks and tales about_ 'the magnificent Herold' _ all made her feel ashamed without fail. When Hawke recounted rumours she had heard, Renee was dangerously close to combust on the sight out of embarrassment, as she never wanted to hide in some hole so badly. Well, maybe a couple of times before, but anyways—it. was. _ horrible_. "The part about me tearing off the dragon's head with my bare hands to bathe in its blood was entirely Varric's idea."

"So, what had truly happened?" Fenris asked with a side grin, raising his eyebrows in question. His sharp or, perhaps, even angular features didn't made him seem cold or expressionless; on the contrary, his face appeared to be temperamental, moving even, with all those subtle changes and gestures.

It was pleasant to watch.

That is—when he wasn't frowning.

"Unfortunately," Renee sighed, "there was not a single suitable bathtub nearby. I had to drink blood just like that, without any candles and petals of felandaris."

"The felandaris has no petals."

"Indeed. The news of it had shattered my fragile little heart."

"Alright," he nodded, stifling a short laugh in his cough. "I will admit that, although the Inquisitor's sense of humour was never mentioned in any of these stories, it exists nonetheless. But what about the rest?" 

"You have to be more specific," she shrugged her shoulders with a smile. "I cannot keep a track of_ all stories _about me or the Inquisition." 

"The Haven." The smirk disappeared off his face, as it was never there. "What happened to Coryphaeus?" 

Her mood, barely recovered, immediately withered in the bud.

"I did not see this personally. The trebuchet worked, and the Haven—what was left of it was covered by an avalanche." She quickly looked away, turning from Fenris a little. Even talking about it seemed difficult, not to mention keeping her face calm under the elf's piercing gaze. "Was Coryphaeus buried underneath it or not, I do not know. The people of Inquisition are working now to clear the ruins and give our comrades a proper burial; but I don't think we'll be so lucky to find with them what was left of Coryphaeus. He was able to resurrect himself after he stopped breathing, who is to say he cannot do the same now."

She tried really hard to remain unflustered, as Inquisitor couldn't just show their weakness to everyone; but vision still blurred with tears barely helded back and a lump rolled up her throat.

Too bad the weakness never gave a damn about Inquisitor's opinion, huh.

"It's rather breezy up here," she coughed, looking anywhere but Fenris' face. "If you have other questions, it is better to move our conversation somewhere else." 

He nodded and followed silently.

Renee felt his heavy gaze on her back—or imagined the feeling. It was familiar to her from the Circle; the constant vigilant attention of the Templars. Not the best remedy to pull herself together.

The wounds of Haven run too deep within her heart without a hope for a quick recovery.

"Demon bite you in the ass, elf! How could you let me down like this!? I've put three silvers that you'll hiss at our Dormouse like an angry cat!"

Hiding behind the battlements, Varric sat on the floor with Hawke, radiating waves of displeasure with his whole body. At the sight of him, amusing in his pretend anger, her chest pain began to recede. Lucky her—otherwise she would have to run away without bidding her farewell or to cry in front of the stranger. Both options were far from ideal. 

"I don't hiss," Fenris frowned. 

"Stop fibbing! You and Blondie were at each others throats at the first opportunity. And what about Daisy? You've almost eaten her alive because of that story with a mirror!" 

"So you bet against me, Varric?" Renee squinted, noting to her chagrin that the voice despite all her efforts still trembled a little. "I thought you were on my side."

"Wow, scary!" Varric raised his hands, stepping back and nearly tripping over Hawke's long legs, which she purposely moved closer. "I need to point out the fact that _ officially _ I've bet on the elf's squabbly nature." 

"You confuse me with Carver, dwarf. _ I _ know how to be polite." 

"And when should we await the next day of politeness? You see, I need to warn the Chantry to put it on the calendar. The world must face this shock prepared." 

"Maybe after your beard will return from your chest to its rightful place."

"Ho-ho! And here I hoped you've learned at least a one new joke while I wasn't watching."

"I've learnt one." 

"Pray tell." 

"My sword. All new, as you can see. A pity only few appreciate his sharp sense of humour. Of living ones, I mean."

It was hard to see through his sarcacm as both his tone and face remained extremely serious. But there were no threat in his voice.

At least Renee really hoped he _ was _ joking… 

"Ah, as gloomy and menacing as always," Varric grumbled reproachfully, shaking his head. He then looked at Renee and grinned. "It's time for you to go, Dormouse, right? Nightingale won't be happy if you'll come to her in the last moment." 

"A pity to interrupt out touching family reunion, but we haven't finished out conversation," replied Fenris in her stead. "Inquisitor?" 

Renee nodded, said her goodbyes and left.

Varric sighed quietly as she walked away. 

"Why the long nose?" Hawke asked, rising to her feet and stretching lazily. "One might think I've robbed you of your last underclothes." 

"Eh, keep it!" He waved his hand and took a bottle from her, gulping sloppily of what was left. "I'm kinda glad I've lost. It would be very disappointing had the elf bite off Dormouse's head for just three silvers."

"Varric," stripped of the usual mockery her voice became softer. "I would never took you for the faithful, but here you are. With Herold of Andraste herself. And from what I saw it doesn't seem like it's only because of the Seeker who dragged you here." 

"She didn't drag me _ here_. Unfortunately. It would be nice to ride up to Skyhold at least on _ someone_. Snow in the mountains, if case you've failed to notice, is not made for dwarfs."

"If you were free to choose, how come you've never left?" 

"I run too slow."

"_Varric_."

"What? Have you not seen my legs? If not, you can do it now."

"How beautiful and sturdy they are! Your fur is perfect down here too!.. No, but seriously."

He sighed, throwing a glance over the sun-drenched roofs of the fortress. 

"One giant hole in the sky seemed like a good argument. Also… I couldn't just wave my hand and hide it Free Marches after Coryphaeus came to visit us. It was not for me, you know? And, most importantly, how could I get past such a story, huh!? The Herold of Andraste! Can you imagine how many tales will people tell about her? Why not mine?"

"So that's the whole point?" Hawke smiled as she put her hand around his shoulder. "A story?" 

"One cannot let good premise go." 

"So it was never my heavenly charm that lured you, but just some kind of story? Varric, you wound my very heart."

"Not just _ a _ story, Hawke. _ The _ best one I had ever told."

_-to be continued_


End file.
